


Shattered Souls

by HumanFly



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, historicalfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:05:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11331768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumanFly/pseuds/HumanFly
Summary: Autumn 1939:  Isabeaux Laurent is witness to  the outbreak of a second conflagration that  will tear the world apart.Back in 1914, duchess Isabelle (Belle) Lavrentiev  is a reckless young woman,  willing to defy the rules of Russian nobility and be true to her nature. Little does she know that her quest to find herself will be influenced by her love for Ratmir Maksimov and by the impending war which will strip the Russian people of their faith in the autocratic regime of the tsar.  Belle and Ratmir's story develops against the backdrop of the Russian Revolution and the ascension of the Bolsheviks. Will they be able  to survive the brutal changes of the Russian Society or will they be part of the shattered souls left behind at the dusk of an era?A tale of war, death, of revolution and change, but most of all a tale of love that transcends the challenges posed by a new century.





	1. Prologue

Autumn 1939

Why do we engage so freely in war, what can we gain other than misery and disaster? Glory, riches, power? What are their value when you walk down the street and you see mothers crying for the child they have lost, wives mourning the husbands that will never come back, the fathers who will never see their daughters growing into womanhood?

I have known both tragedy and pain. I have seen how over night the world I had been so familiar with was obliterated, never to rise again. People hoped that this new brave world would be better. It wasn't, it turned out to be much worse. Now once again, as a new conflict looms on the horizon the world will be changed and what previously was will be forgotten. This is how destiny works, we die along with the things that defined us: our dreams, our passion, our love, all gone as if they never were. The only thing that remains is a name written on paper or on a grave. Sometimes not even that. You may as well be one of the nameless who have fallen as prey to the inevitable, one of the poor unfortunate souls who will never see the sunset again. History is never fair, heroes are not acknowledged, victims are vilified and the villains die, believing that their actions have been justified, no matter how many generations suffer as a consequence.

I look at the people surrounding me, most of them young and reckless, willing to stand out. The prospect of another war is once again received enthusiastically as if the first one never was. Have they forgotten the stories their fathers have told them from the battlefield? The death, the despair, the chaos? Maybe not, but surely they do not realise the meaning that lies beneath all those stories of combat, not when the desire to live up to your father's heroic figure prevails.

Most of them don't know that their lives are about to be shattered, either by death or the loss that they will face. They will never be the same people that they are now, their innocence will die once the first bullet is shot. Another society on the brink of collapse, just as the one that has marked my youth.

Would my younger self recognise me now? Despite the scars, the wrinkles, the heavy eyes, I am probably the same: incapable of preventing another tragical change, just as the one that stripped me from everyone I loved two decades ago. Is there any way to escape it? Probably not, for mere mortals are no match for the powers whose interests are at stake. They never are.

As I head for the train that will carry me far away, I cast a last glance at my surroundings. I leave Paris behind, just as I left Petrograd all those years ago. Why now? Because a sense of foreboding tells me that this war will be worse than the previous one and this time I am too old to face it and survive.


	2. The Young and the Innocent

Spring 1914  
“My lady, hurry up! Your father is waiting for you. There is little time left till the guests arrive” my maid, Anna, urged me nervously.  
“I know, I know, but it seems impossible for me to find a proper dress for the occasion. I have nothing new to wear and you know how embarrassing it would be to be seen in an old gown. I bet the nobility of Petrograd would not hesitate to gossip.” I mumbled, discontent with the prospect of being once again the centre of discussion. It had been only a month since my attempt to ride my horse as a man scandalised the ladies from my mother’s entourage and appalled the gentleman. “Isabelle, darling, have you been brought up at a farm in Siberia without my knowledge? If it weren’t for your garments, you would be easily mistaken for one of the factory workers with this attitude!” my father had said the following day. He had known, however, that my rebelliousness was incorrigible.  
“My lady, why don’t you try the golden one? You know how much your father loves to see you in that.” Anna suggested affectionately, as if she could already see me wearing it.  
“I know”, I smiled ruefully, “He thinks that when I am wearing it, I am by far the most beautiful young woman in Petrograd, even in comparison with the grand duchesses.” Although when it comes to demeanour their imperial highnesses far exceeded me. I had seen them only twice, once at a ball organised for the Dowager Empress’s birthday and once again from afar at the celebration of 300 years of Romanov rule. They carried themselves with such elegance and dignity, the true embodiment of royalty.  
“Let’s go for the golden one, then. After all, it would not be such a compelling subject to gossip about, given that I can do much better at scaring the Petrograd nobility with my inappropriate manners. At least now they will only say that I don’t care enough about my appearance” They were perfectly right. I didn’t care, I was only concerned about father, not even about my mother, who was as always too busy with her friends to remember she had a daughter, not unless my actions directly affected her pride. Since childhood she hadn’t been a motherly figure to me. I had spent my time more with Anna, my maid, and my French governess, Mademoiselle Collette Lorent who had taught me French and English, as well as stirred my love for history and literature. At least in this respect I was no concern for my family. My love for books meant less time dedicated to tarnishing our most noble reputation.  
“Now, hurry up, Miss. Our guests are on the way!” Anna pointed out as she took the gown to help me dress.  
“Anna, do you think he will come?” I asked, a glimmer of hope visible in my eyes.  
“Who, the dashing count Maksimov, the one you have been admiring from afar for more than a month? The one man you were writing poems about?  
“All this time, you have known that I have been writing those poems” I stated disbelievingly.” I thought it wasn’t that obvious.”  
“How can I not know when my girl sets her eyes on a man? “I blushed involuntarily. “You are a hopeless romantic. You should ask Mademoiselle Collette to procure other kind of books for you.”  
“Maybe that’s what I shall do. It seems impossible sometimes to distinguish fiction from reality. Do you think he might like me? “I was quite sceptical about that. He was well-read and had flawless manners. I, on the other hand, was a gullible girl, too odd to be desirable, except if you considered my dowry. What could a person like him see in me, other than an advantageous match? Although I would rather have been nothing to him than just a rich fiancé.  
“My dear, I cannot be the judge of that and neither can you. You haven’t talked to him yet. If you wish to find an answer you may as well hurry and go be the best host possible. The guests have arrived and you are nowhere to be seen.” she sighed anxiously as she adjusted my hair and urged me to leave.  
Tonight, I would be brave enough to initiate a discussion and see for myself if some kind of bond can be formed. I had my fate in my hands, despite what others may have thought. I would make my own destiny. If it scandalised the Petrograd nobility then so be it, it would be even better.

*  
The Grand Hall was full of people; all clad in the most extravagant attires. The women were proudly displaying their flamboyant gowns and their precious sets of jewellery, most of them purchased from the most exclusivist shops in France. This was the trend for the Petrograd nobility. The official language of the imperial court was French, the fashion and mannerism were French as well. What was even Russian when it came to the nobility? Probably their names only, as few of the aristocrats were actually able to speak fluently in their native language. We were trying too hard to emulate the inborn refinery of the French and frankly you could easily tell that we only made fools of ourselves.  
I stepped reluctantly in the imposing room, trying to spot my father among the nobles. It didn’t take much of an effort as he was already looking for me.  
“Belle, darling, where were you? Almost everyone has come. Duchess Emma Sharonova was asking for you. She seemed quite disappointed that you weren’t there to greet her.” Emma was maybe one of the very few people I was friends with among the nobility. She was sweet, honest and saw the best in everyone. She was two years older than me and she was the only one who thought my recklessness was owed to my childlike personality. Everyone loved her and suitors gravitated around her. She was the ideal daughter in law: schooled in France, radiant appearance and impeccable manners. How can one not love her?  
“I am so sorry, father. I got carried away and didn’t realise how fast time went by. I’d better go and greet Emma. I would hate to disappoint her. Are there any other guests you would like to receive my attention?” I asked, hoping that I can be done with the courtesies as soon as possible.  
“No, my dear. I think your mother can handle that on her own. But, still, make sure you behave according to your status. It will do us no good to have the most respectable noble families talking poorly about us at their soirees in the following weeks.”  
“I guess that unless we’re organising a horse ride to entertain our guests, I’ll be the perfect aristocrat .” I half smiled, trying to tease him a little. I could see that he was increasingly anxious, just as he always was when it came to such occasions. If you wanted to remain among the nobility, you had to make sure you attend all the events in Petrograd, otherwise you can be easily forgotten.  
“Try to be the charming duchess whose potential I can see. Only if you pretend to be one of them, can you be the master of your own fate” He tried to encourage me, but I knew that this only applied to my marriage prospects, for in any other case I would be just as isolated as the grand imperial duchesses who rarely left Alexander Palace. I would be a bird in a gilded cage, with no contact to the outside world, the real world.  
But then as I was making my way through the gathering, I caught the sight of a handsome, imposing silhouette eyeing me from the distance. I stopped dead in my tracks, all my previous thoughts had disappeared into oblivion. Ratmir was here, looking straight at me as if nobody else was around us. Maybe there was none, apart from us.


End file.
